A Home For Timmy (boyxboy)

Chapter 20: Our Secret

Chapter 20

Ronny was different than I remembered him. He was still a cocky, mean son of a bitch. That would never change, but there was something about his eyes that wasn't the same. Like the happiness and the adventure-lovin' had gone out of them.

Bitter. That's how he looked now. Kinda like how my old man always looked when he got home from work. There was something about the group too that was different. Where was the laughter and the teasing? Where was the chatting and the cussing? More importantly, where was Red?

I ignored the drink in my hand and glanced over at Ronny. "How come Red aint out here with us?" I questioned, and just like that his eyes got that mean glint in them and his mouth turned up in a sneer.

"Since when do you give a fuck about my brother?" he spat and I looked at the others sitting around me, and couldn't help but notice how they were looking everywhere but at Ronny and me.

"I aint never had a problem with Red, you know that." I replied and Ronny took a long gulp of his liquor and shook his head.

"If you really gave a shit you wouldn't a ditched us for your cop like you did."

"I told you I don't get down with cops and of course I care."

Ronny swished the alcohol around and around in his mouth, then leaned forward and spat it into the fire, but otherwise he didn't say anything else. It was Sharon who gave me the answer, and I felt a quick stab of pain in my chest when she told me.

"Red's gone Jason." She said all somber like. "He got beat up by some dirty cops last month, then they dragged him off in the back of their car." She sniffed and Martin draped a hand around her shoulder.

"We found his body a day later. They killed him." Ricky finished, and I looked at Ronny in shock. He just sat there, staring into the flames, with his bottle in one hand and his gun in the next, but he didn't say a thing.

"I'm sorry Ronny." I said quietly, and that's when he finally looked back at me; his eyes dry and empty and his nostrils flaring in anger.

"Drink up." He ordered, and I glanced down at the very tall bottle in my hand, before tipping it to my head.

He'd lost his brother. That's what was different about him and that's why he'd kill me the second he found out I was living with an FBI agent.

When I swallowed down the bitter liquid I winced, then shivered despite the fact that my body felt as hot as the fire we were sitting around.

As I thought about what the fact that I might not leave alive, the phone in my jacket pocket suddenly felt ten times heavier, and the urge to call up Michael and have him rescue me became about a hundred times stronger, but that only meant that the fear of getting caught doing it was about a thousand times worse and that's why I could only just sit there with the group of people who were never really my friends, the full bottle of booze they were forcing me to drink trapped in my hand, and a gun pointing right at me.

......................................

~Michael~

Straight to voicemail.

I couldn't remember how many times I'd called him, and still no answer. I shoved my phone into my pocket and parted the curtain yet again to look out into the night. He'd left hours ago and there was still no sign of him.

My gut was screaming that something was wrong, and my gut hadn't been wrong yet.

I turned to look at Timmy who was fast asleep on the couch, wrapped in his favorite blanket with Bunny by his side. He had two fingers stuck in his mouth and his wild midnight-black hair was as messy as Jason's tended to be when he woke up in the morning.